Knick-Knack, Paddy-Whack, Fuck Y’all Critics!

This was almost gonna be a post about, “How To Be A Cop Without Killing Any Black People.” Here’s the problem: My last post on this blog was, like, 40 years ago. And here I am, all kinds of inspired by these troubled times we live in, and have decided to start an exercise in which I write a little something every day for the next 50 days… to try to claw my way back to having the right to call myself a writer. My inaugural homecoming post can’t be 100% ‘Fuck The Police’ without at least a bit of expository explanation about what the hell I’m doing here.

What they don’t tell you about The Boy Who Cried Wolf is that he survived and was forced to keep living. Forever. Living with the knowledge that his transgressions had ostracized him. Blah Blah Blah, point is, fuck it. I’m back, and it’s cool if you don’t believe me now, but let’s talk about it later on down the road after you’ve recovered from being pummeled by the typhoon of my self-righteous bullshit writing again. Sound good? Okay, good. Good!

So, anyway. Cops. Listen up, cops!

I know you’re getting a lot of shit in the media these days. I’m here to help you. I just want to state that I’m not prejudiced at all: some of my best friends are cops, and I even donated $10 to the Police Benefit Association’s Pee-Wee Baseball League once. So, I mean, clearly, I’m on YOUR SIDE, okay? This is a safe space for you here.

Now, listen:

You and your cop friends need to stop killing Black people. I know it’s tempting, extremely tempting, as we all know that most cops were severely bullied or endured horrific new heights of domestic violence as young men. Not to mention, the scientific research has been done, the facts have been sorted, and we can finally open a dialogue about most policemen having small penises, and how carrying a gun helps quell the subsequent anxieties associated with having a tiny little baby dick. It’s okay! We understand! But I’m here to offer you fellas some new solutions to the age old problem: “How the hell am I supposed to go home and love my wife when I haven’t gunned down an innocent brown man in the street this week?”

It's gonna be okay, little buddy.

It’s gonna be okay, little buddy.

I know, the question itself is daunting. Perplexing, even. Well, old pal, we’ve got the solutions you need!

1. Buy a penis pump, and get to work!

In the modern era, it’s been well-established that penis pumps really do work! And you’d be surprised, one of my best cop friends reduced his hate crime output rate by 65%, simply by pumping up and growing his penis just ONE HALF INCH! Imagine how easy it would be to leave innocent black citizens alone if you were able to keep up with all the guys you’ve sweatily watched in your “Oh no! There’s A Negro In My Daughter!” DVD collection. I recommend the Hydromax Bathmate Series of pumps; we sell them at my work, and they’re very popular among police and gamers.

2. Become a Mall Cop instead.

Shopping malls are the Heart & Soul of the U.S. of A. It’s where we Americans go to find bargains with which to fill the terrifying void of existence. It’s where we fill ourselves with food court 2-entree meals with sides of greasy lo mein and steamed broccoli, so that our hard-working brains can power on through another round of Zombie-walking at Macy’s. If EVER there were a place that needed to be “protected and served,” it’s the motherfucking mall. May I also remind you, you’ll still have plenty of opportunity to practice and perfect your racial profiling skills. You’ll probably even be issued a taser! It’s probably not going to be quite as thrilling as cold-blooded, hated-fueled murder… but it’s something, right?

3. Go back to school!

Believe it or not, there are much easier ways to destroy Black lives than outright murder. Think about it. Most cops can only murder one or two Black people before the left-wing media gets involved and the officer responsible has to keep a low profile for a while. And then come the real headaches: mandatory psych evaluations, paid administrative leave,  or even unpaid suspensions! Sheesh, can’t a cop catch a break? NO WORRIES, OFFICER FRIENDLY, just go back to school! You could learn how to fuck Black people in a virtually unlimited number of ways! You could be a loan officer, a public defender, an insurance risk-assessor, a journalist, a social worker… the possibilities for fucking Black people are nearly infinite these days.

4. Turn your hatred inward.

Seriously. Quit the force. Move back home to rural Vermont/Kentucky/Iowa/wherethefuckever. Listen only to Morrisey or The Smiths. Stop bathing. Talk your mom into spending her retirement checks on your drinking problem. Text your high school girlfriend to passive-aggressively ask how her husband (stupid Bobby Flaherty, used to have chemistry with that asshole, can’t believe he stole my girl, that fuck) is doing. Watch every single Adam Sandler movie. Don’t ever come back to civilization ever again.

5. Kill a white guy!

Finally, if all else fails because you’re weak and useless, try killing your own people for a change! Look, I KNOW it’s not going to be quite as satisfying, okay? White guys are generally lighter in skin color, so it might feel a little weird at first. But, with some practice, you’ll barely notice. It might take some time for the media to catch on, too, but there are just as many valid excuses for killing white guys as there are for killing Black people… including meth, Florida, crimes of passion, Juggalos… need I say more, guys?

Jesus Christ. I just wrote all of that, and then immediately felt weird about it. I’m well aware that I’m a white American with a penis, and it’s a lot safer for me to make absurdist satire about police. I’m sorry if this is an inadvertent abuse of my privilege, but I’m trying to vent an extreme amount of impotent frustration. Simply fucking put, Black Lives Matter. And I’m so incredibly sick of my demographic (white, thirty-something, American) acting as fucking angels of death, which is actually a really vile representation of me. We have used and stolen and whitewashed every aspect of Black culture for our own enjoyment/amusement/convenience, from our music and dance, to our fashion trends, to our language– we incorporate Black culture into the very basics of how we communicate and live together in a society. Yet, still, we can’t be bothered to understand that Black Culture comes from Black People. LIVING PEOPLE. HUMANS THAT ARE ACTUALLY ALIVE. As relentlessly shitty or as surprisingly wonderful as any individual may be, we all deserve at least a uniform level of basic respect just for being alive together on this massive, spinning chunk of carbon and shit.

Anywho… I guess this is good enough for a “welcome back” post. I’m so fucking mad at white people, though, so there’s gonna probably be a lot more of this. That said, I am very excited to be alive right now. Despite all the gnarly shit going on, I think a lot of people are on the right track. We may, potentially, all be okay. Maybe.

And, now, you probably need something to help shake off the icky feelings you get when you think about reality, yeah? Here’s something you can dance to:


About R. Spacely

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